


Endless Moments 2: Death

by FayJay



Series: Endless Moments [2]
Category: Firefly, The Sandman
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-10
Updated: 2009-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayJay/pseuds/FayJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Wash meets a girl, and gets some bad news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endless Moments 2: Death

She's a very pretty girl, and he notices that, of course, because he's only human, but he's also a married man, and his Zoe would carve out his heart if he ever gave her cause. So he doesn't. Give her cause. Even though this girl is smiling at him like he's the most charming, amusing, downright adorable thing she's ever seen. Even though he feels like he's known her his whole life.

“Hi there,” he says, feeling kind of dumb, and, actually, she does kind of remind him of his wife, a little. Something about the lovely dark tumble of her hair, and the _certainty_ of her; something about the way she contains both merriment and dignity in her smile.

“Hello, Wash,” she says, dimpling at him, and he feels like he's said something witty after all.

Actually, where the hell are they? And where did she come from? He looks around then, belatedly puzzled, because he's pretty sure they didn't take on any passengers at the last stop. Although – where was the last stop again?

“Sorry, this is going to sound stupid, but I just – have we met?”

She grins. “Just the once, Wash. But it's good to see you again.”

He can feel himself blushing, and he's very conscious again that he's alone with a pretty girl – and it's not like it's his fault, 'cause he's just sitting here doing his job, flying the damn ship, and if the cap'n _will_ go taking on pretty girls and letting them wander freely around the ship then it's no fault of a happily married man if sometimes they might wander into his place of work and start playing with his dinosaurs.

“Raaar!” she says, brandishing one dinosaur at the other with an expression of delight. “'No! No! Don't eat me!' 'But you are made of tasty meat, and I am hungry!' 'Couldn't you try being a vegetarian? I hear that soybeans are delicious!' 'I am a carnivore, and you look pretty delicious to me, pal. Raaar!' 'What if I tell you a story?' 'Then I will sit nicely and listen to your story, and if it is good I will applaud, and if it is bad I will say uncomplimentary things, but either way I will still eat you up.' 'But that isn't fair!' 'That's how the cookie crumbles, buster. I'm hungry, and you didn't run fast enough. Raaar!'”

He watches as one plastic dinosaur cheerfully eats the other one – or at least nuzzles its plastic jaws at the other's plastic throat – and feels like hugging her. And not in a rhythmic, inappropriate-to-a-married-man kind of way. Just – hugging her, like he'd hug a sister, if he had one.

“I'm sorry, but I really don't remember your name,” he confesses, feeling oddly certain that she won't mind.

She looks up at him and grins again, and he knows that he was right. She doesn't mind at all. “We weren't formally introduced,” she says, setting his dinosaurs back down where they belong. “And it was – a while ago. You were a lot smaller then.” She makes it sound like it's a joke that they're sharing, and he can't help smiling back in return, but he's starting to get a real sense of oddness.

“Sorry, I don't – where are we going, again?” He looks at his instruments, feeling embarrassed. He must be getting old. He must have dozed off, which he doesn't do very often, whatever Jayne might say. Just sometimes, looking out over the glittering field of stars, if he's had an unusually, ah, athletic night, he might sometimes rest his eyes a little, by closing them. Occasionally. But he isn't normally as disoriented as this when he awakes. “Were we – Persephone, was it, or...” And that's when the first spike of wrongness hits him. “Reavers!” He jumps out of his chair, adrenaline suddenly surging through his veins. “There were – we – where _is_ everyone?”

She looks at him sadly. “You landed it beautifully, Wash. Got them all in safe and sound. Brought her in like a leaf on the wind. It was just bad luck, in the end. It often is.”

He blinks. “What?”

She pulls a face. “You died.”

There's a beat, and he's waiting for the punchline, but it never comes. “What?” he says again, instead.

“You died, Wash. I'm here to guide you home.”

“You're – I – no.” He looks at her then, really looks at her, bone-white skin and glittering necklace and crazy black chaos of tattered frou-frou skirts. She's a stranger who feels as familiar as his Zoe, as familiar as his own face, and she's impossible. Crazy as River. Except – except that he's never seen anyone so thoroughly down-to-earth, so disarmingly sane. “Dead?” he says at last. “Really?”

She nods apologetically. “Really. Sorry. That's your lot.”

“Oh.” It feels oddly anticlimactic. “I always kind of thought there'd be, you know, a bright light. Maybe beautiful girls with wings. Not that you're not beautiful – I didn't mean that, I mean, you're very beautiful!” She's looking at him fondly, and he's blushing and stumbling over his words. “I mean, not like that – or, you know, maybe if I wasn't married – but – but – I'm just saying I thought there'd be wings.”

“I have wings,” she says, confidentially. “You just can't see them.”

“Oh.” He blinks out at the familiar heavens. “Okay then. Invisible wings. Well, that's nice. Not what I pictured, but – nice. No choirs of heavenly voices raised in song either? But that's probably a good thing – never much cared for madrigals. Mad wriggles. Silly word.” He looks at her sidelong. “So you're the grim reaper? I have to say, you don't look very grim. Or reapy.”

Her smile widens. “I've never seen the point of being gloomy,” she tells him. “But I suppose I could try to look more solemn, if it would make you feel better.”

“No! No, not complaining. This is – nice.” Wash reflects for a moment, startled. “Weirdly, unexpectedly – nice.” He chews his bottom lip. “Will I get to see Zoe again?” he asks, after a while, in a small voice. When he glances across at her, he doesn't know how to read the expression on her face.

“That would be telling,” is all she says. She leans a little closer, and pushes one of the instruments in front of him. “Just a little further – yes. Like that.”

Wash blinks as the viewscreen begins to fill with something bright and unexpected.

“Oh!” he says, filling up with the kind of shocked, joyful sense of awe he had felt the first time he looked out at a planet from above.

“Yes,” she says, gently, and takes his hand.


End file.
